


The Tower and The Ivy

by GoldenHavoc



Series: The Tower and the Ivy [2]
Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Angry Sebastian, Arguing, Chess Metaphors, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Protective Sebastian, Ruvik is Ruvik, Teenage Dorks, Teenage Sebastian, and so is Ruben, many metaphors in general since this is how I write XD, no STEM, teenage Ruben
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 09:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18408149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenHavoc/pseuds/GoldenHavoc
Summary: “It’s not about me,“ Sebastian repeated in exasperation. His fingertips dug deeper, leaving phantom imprints on Ruben’s clothed skin. “It’s about you. It’s always been about you and this horror house! … and Laura.“Ruben watched, fixed as a sphinx, how his only friend’s posture crumbled. Sebastian‘s touch was warm and rough and he might have enjoyed his eyes trained on him if he hadn‘t been the reason of their sadness. If he had a heart worth beating still, he might have felt pity for the only being that had become attached to him despite it all or, even worse, because of it.But he was selfish. And he was horribly alone.





	The Tower and The Ivy

**Author's Note:**

> Since this here has been rotting in my draft folder since last year, I thought I’d fix it up, (aka turn the whole plot upside down) and post it here. I think this decent enough to put a smile on my face so here it is^^. Besides, I think there could be more sweet teenage!Ruseb drama sooo. Enjoy. :)
> 
> (And, if you’d like, kudos and comments are always highly appreciated <3)

 

 

_When the ivy has found its tower, when the delicate creeper has found its strong wall, we know how the parasite plants grow and prosper._

**_Anthony Trollope_ **

 

 

"Do you think $400 rent for a three-room apartment north of Krimson is a kosher offer?"

Ruben paused. He repeated the question two times in mind before even considering to give a serious reply.

He then fathomed an expression that should deem genuinely interested in the topic… well, by society standards at least, though he couldn’t say to have ever been part of said corpus delicti.

It was, he assumed, to be blamed on the small realm he occupied and accepted as the limit of his own world long ago. Before the barn, he had been too young to truly fester an outgoing nature without Laura‘s constant yearning to leave the house and trudge around town. He didn’t mind the missed opportunites as much as his parents might have expected him to. And now, seven years later, he was way beyond them.

Closing his eyes, he imagined what it would be like to walk in the sun instead of crouching on cushions warmed by dust, listening to the birds’ hymn in full crescendo instead of contenting with their reverberation from afar. Did he miss their chant or merely the chance to catch one and dissect its little lungs so he could hear if birds cried too in their pain? He wasn’t sure. His thoughts were probably too crooked for the reality of both.

"I mean, the pension is pretty cheap for a fancy neighborhood like this. There's probably something fishy about it.“ Ruben stayed silent.

Sebastian craned his neck. “Hey, don’t ignore me! You’ve been reading that damn book for half an hour now. I’ve come all the way from Krimson on a damn _bike_ , my crotch’s still singing arias. I demand attention.“

Ruben lifted his gaze in mock obedience. It clung to a sprawled body that claimed half of the couch across his own, arms balancing on the backrest. One of the legs, boot partly attached, dangled over the cushion with a bared heel and sock nearly worn through. The other one pressed its sole into one of the pillows. They had been neatly arranged before, but Sebastian was quick to make a mess wherever he went.

Ruben didn’t mind it as much as back when they first met. He’d also long given up to scold him for not taking his shoes off once he set foot into his home. At least, he’d been cautious enough to not get mud on them this time.

"I'm not keen on the value of real estate, but I don't think it served on a silver platter. I’m sure if you were offered an apartment on the upper east side of Krimson for that sum, there’d be a catch."

He put a marker between the pages and closed the book with a decisive thump. The sound echoed off the cold walls of the cellar. "How do you come up with this topic, actually? You’ve never been interested in living door to door with – what did you call them? – _money-eaters_. Besides, three rooms hold too much space for a person like you. You’re used to living in a shoebox." Sebastian’s eyes darted down on the empty coffee table in their midst.

"Well, yeah,“ he murmured. He paused, then scratched the back of his head. “Nevermind. I just flipped through one of those fancy magazines and saw some ads. Got me thinking **.** “ 

Ruben raised what had once been a neat, blonde brow underneath the bandage. “You read magazines for the rich now?“ He put the book on the table. Leaning back, his hands folded in his lap. He slowly crossed his legs. “Should I worry about you, Seb?“

Sebastian barked a laugh. “Believe it or not, I _do_ read when I’m bored. And those night shifts at the museum are pretty boring. They don't have that much choice in terms of magazines either.“ A yawn stretched his mouth and kept him from oversharing. Of course, he didn’t see any need in covering it with his hand. Ruben caught a glimpse at his front teeth, the pinkish tongue buckling below. “Make me rusty too. I should get my eyes on something with more action.“ Ruben smirked half-heartedly. Action. That terrible word.

“Should you?“

“Yeah. Something with more money too.“ Sebastian crossed his arms behind his head and straightened his back. The platelets of his spine fell into place with a soft clink, accompanied by a grunt. Ruben enjoyed the sound of both; together, they calmed him for reasons he wouldn’t name. “I have no clue what I’m supposed to watch out for. Nothing ever happens there,“ Sebastian added muttering. His words were genuine in their little grievance; he complained about his job since the day he got it and Ruben had learned to get used to his rambling if only to indulge in the frustration his voice vibrated in.

He watched him more carefully now. Bowing forward with a slight arch, he let his elbows balance on his thighs.

“It was your choice to work as a security guard in order to rent an apartment closer to the police academy you’re so hyped on attending. I offered you to move into the manor often enough to save the money. Our driver would drop you in Krimson each morning and drive you home in the eve. You’d never be late.“

Sebastian flashed a smile at his accusing tone. It hardly fit the mirrored expression weighing down his gaze. He blinked, ran a hand over his face, but Ruben wasn’t easy to fool.

They had discussed this before. He, however, was a sore loser.

“You certainly don’t know the notoriety of having me as a roommate,“ Sebastian ardently tried to keep his timbre light. “You wouldn’t dote so much on the idea otherwise, y’know?“

His knuckles touched his lower lip, warm breath fanning over chapped skin. Remnants of a robbery in Park Row the other day; the thief hadn’t gone down without a fight.

It wasn’t the first time Ruben felt the need to take a closer look at the lacerations since he came in, clean them if necessary to avoid infection or scarring. Despite the distance, he could see them stand out from the remaining flesh; angrily jagged craters of cornrose red planted on fragile bone. Sebastian hadn’t earned his badge yet, but he flung himself into each crime that crossed his path like a shipwrecked sailor into the open sea. His actions were characterized by carelessness and other inabilities often, but, even by his standards, the habit of risking his life for the meager fulfillment of so-called justice had reached worrying levels during past year.

Ruben dreaded to think of what would happen the moment Sebastian slipped into his praised uniform and roamed the streets like an errant peacock of sorts, a target for everybody with a foul mind and gunfire at the ready.

He would never see him do that in person, though. Worse, he wouldn’t see him get shot or hit by a car whether it happened or not. He would sit here, basking in the dusk of his existence and wait for his miraculous, unsteady return that wouldn’t happen since humans were not supposed to crawl out of their grave. He should know.

The blunt edge of Ruben’s nails wedged into his palms, a dull pressure where nerves lay blank and sizzling once, evaporating into nothing before his eyes.

“I never said I’d mind to find out. If you don’t want to live in the cellar, we’ve got four unused rooms on the first floor, five if you count in the boxroom you deemed ’bigger than your fucking flat’ yourself. If I introduce you as my guest and that you’ll be gone half of the day, father won’t care much about it. You could even have Lau–“ 

Ruben bit his tongue. And was irrevocably glad to feel the faintest sting of sharp teeth drilling into his very own flesh.

It had been weeks he carried his beloved sister’s name in his mouth, months he’d spoken it out loud enough without the notion of guilt to infest the letters. The desperation, the cadaverous longing never seemed to fade in its clearness. It was quick, syllables hasty and blooming, way too willing; the desperate plea of the little burnt boy he used to be, bruised by incessant talk. It was too late when he realized Sebastian had sat up and put his palms flat on his knees, studying him with an alarmed expression.

“Laura’s what, Ruben?“ he asked. He cocked his head, his eyes searching to meet his own, but, this time, Ruben would have preferred no contact at all. “You haven’t mentioned her lately. Did you… see her again?“

Ruben didn’t answer. Sebastian was the only one he’d ever told about the hallucinations he occasionally suffered through; not even Jimenez had a hunch. Ruben wouldn’t have let him live that long if he did.

 _Laura’s old room._ It cried under his half-numb palate, mulish enough to still demand to be heard. _It’s closest to mine where the_ old me _resided. Black strands over red satin, daffodils in a porcellain vase, books written about countries we’d never see. Everything was as it should have been. As_ **I** _should have been._

_With you, I wouldn’t have to suffer the knowledge of the room’s emptiness anymore. Her presence lingering there was of peerless grandeur; it would only be decent to have a soul occupy it that is as well-disposed towards me as hers was._

“Ruben.“ Sebastian’s voice pierced through Ruben’s skull like a needle. “Ruben, talk to me. Please. I hate it when you’re like this.“ His every word was soft. And it was horrible, too.

Ruben lowered his head as if he’d been punched. Something underneath his lids burnt; he couldn’t detect what exactly. He didn’t want to.

“It’s nothing.“ He opened his mouth, closed it. His unsteady sight fell back on the book’s title. _The Uncanny_. What did Freud gather about this topic he hadn’t been confronted by already? He practically rose in it.

Clearing his throat, his lips pressed to a fine uneven line. “My offer still stands. That’s all.“

Sebastian looked like he wanted to disagree, but had second thoughts about it. He put two fingers to his temple; a headache announcing itself. He often suffered headaches when they were about to argue; a condition Ruben had become fond of. He never seemed to get headaches when he threw tantrums concerning people of Krimson which in turn meant Ruben was the only one causing him such high levels of distress. It was pleasing to know he cared so much about him it brought him pain.

No. Truth be told, it was a gift.

“I can’t live off you all the time, Ruben. I mean, I ravage your fridge soon I jump into view.“ Sebastian waved a useless, broad hand with nimble fingers attached. “One month ago, you gave me a revolver out of your father’s weapons collection because you deemed the duty gun’s model ’less effective than a toy pistol‘ _._ Next thing you‘ll do is buy me clothes and pour out drinks. You ain’t my wife.“

His voice grew louder the more words it spilled, thenlowered to a mumble in the end. It had Ruben wonder. Usually, a joking demeanor was rehearsed to calm one of his infamous verbal ambushes, but Sebastian’s tone stayed severe, his face grave. The outline of caution crawled over Ruben’s neck. This would either be fun or a disaster. He was prepared for both, or so he believed.

“I never said I’d mind that either.“ His hands unclenched, making a steeple with frozen dead fingertips. “It’s a good gun. I like being conscious of your safety and, as a cop, self-protection should be one of your priorities, – among other duties, of course,“ he added when Sebastian furrowed his brows. “As for the food, it would rot and be disposed of otherwise. Father makes sure I don’t go upstairs to demand a meal. It’s too much for me alone.“ Sebastian sighed.

“That’s not the point.“ He raked his fingers through his hair, that one rebellious curl falling back into his forehead. “That’s not the point at all. I… I don’t know how to put it in words.“

“Then stop. You’ll only hurt yourself trying.“ 

Sebastian fell silent. Ruben used it to peruse the facts.

He was still tired from the night shift at the museum though pumped with caffeine to manage the long way from Krimson to Elk River and beyond to meet him without dozing off by accident. Tired people were prone to miscalculate the outcome of their actions, let alone their words. They proved to be disastrouslyhonest, too; meaning he couldn’t possibly think straight; something Ruben could handle well enough. He had a habit for steering the thoughts of others although he didn’t have much practice using verbal manipulation as his main tool by doing so.

"Nothing has to change if we don't want it to,“ he said. His gaze wandered. If they continued this conversation as it was, he’d hardly have an opportunity to regain control of their topic. He found a black lacquered wooden box in one of the bookshelves’ upper right niche that covered the right side of the room. It leaned close to their position, meters behind Sebastian. He knew the box contained a game board, old and noble, the pieces carved from ivory.

"How about a game of chess to clear your mind?“

He did his best to sound casual, a smile in his words. It helped that he liked chess; a game would give him the time needed to come up with a plan and change Sebastian's mind.

Sebastian cupped his chin in his hand. He proceeded to stuff the other in his right pants pocket, fingers searching down the seam. Pulling out a pack of Lucky Strikes, he flipped the lid open with his thumbnail.

"You always win,“ he grumbled, and shoved a cigarette between his teeth. Ruben’s smile withered away. It hadn’t been real to begin with.

“True, but debatable. You could still surprise me. You often do.“ He watched Sebastian struggle with finding the lighter. “I thought you had stopped with this.“

Sebastian shrugged a shoulder. His tongue rolled the cigarette into the left corner of his mouth, chewing on the filter like a nervous toddler chews on his pacifier. He reached for his jacket on the armrest and rummaged its insides.

“Calm down, I haven’t lighted it yet.“

“You clearly intend to.“

“Shit.“ Sebastian stared at his empty hands. The jacket was thrown over the backrest in dismay. “I must have lost it somewhere on the way.“

“Your luck.“ Sebastian’s gaze scurried to Ruben’s sour face in hope.

“Ru, can I borrow some –?“

“Certainly not.“ Ruben wrapped his arms around himself, clawing his blunt nails into the fabric of his shirt. “It will be a cold day in hell when I give you matches to foster your spiral of death. I prefer you alive and breathing.“ Sebastian rolled his eyes.

“Your concern is heart-wrenching as always. Thought you’re an agnostic?“

“Don’t test me, Sebastian“, Ruben snarled. Sebastianheld his hands up in defeat, a sheepish expression on his face.

“Okay, okay. Calm down **.** “ Breathing in deep, he nodded to the seat beside him. “Fine, sit with me. It’s time we talk about this. We can play chess later.“ Ruben scowled.

“I beg to differ. This is my home; I don’t _need_ to do anything.“

“Please?“ The cigarette wandered between his lips, useless poison unable to fulfill its role. It gave him the look of a much older man. Ruben followed its route with spite. Sebastian had started smoking two years ago. Why, Ruben didn’t know. He was young, fickle and loudmouthed by nature; traits which didn’t leave him out of bad company for long. (Ruben considered all company to be bad influence except his own.) His litanies about lung cancer last summer had done nothing to prevent this irksome habit. The more he thought about it, the more it vexed him. Maybe he should try a more violent approach next time.

They sat in strained silence, aiming their gazes anywhere but at each other, the only sounds Sebastian’s burdened breath and the cacaphony of Ruben’s heartbeat. The longer it lasted the more sacred it got, the calm before the storm, so well-rehearsed Ruben thought of sacrilege. Then, Sebastian’s sigh broke into Eden and ruined it all.

“Alright, I’ll start then. You need to leave this place.“ Ruben’s body went rigid.

“And why exactly should I?“

“Well, because I fucking worry about you for a start.“ Sebastian jumped to his feet and paced back and forth. “This place, it literally sucks the _life_ out of people. Don’t tell me you haven’t felt it too.“

Ruben told him nothing. At this point, he would have moved his pawn to A3, lingering there. He often began at the board’s edge to clear the way for his towers. Next to the queen, they were his favorite pieces in the game. 

Sebastian continued his talk, supported by hands wildly gesturing across the room, cursing, fidgeting, trying. Terms like _health_ and _care_ spilled from his naive mouth. He was the one to talk, carrying a smoke in his mouth, damaging his lungs.

Health and care. Ruben had known neither after the barn.

“I never realized you hate the manor so much,“ he said tersely when Sebastian took the cigarette in his hand and wetted his lips, interrupting the slur of words in the process.

“I never mentioned it before.“ 

"I should have noticed.“ Ruben’s hands lay flat on his thighs, speaking without hostility, but also without warmth. He stared past Sebastian, focusing on a crack in the wall behind him. “I know you; or at least, I think I do. There are few emotions you can conceal, and hatred isn’t one of them.“

“It’s not hate.“ Sebastian‘s hands settled on his hips. He sighed. “It’s... No one should grow old here. None of us.“ He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “With all the shit that has happened, this isn’t the place for you. Think of the nightmares. Everything the manor does is stuff your head with memories you don‘t need anym–“

“– I only saw her that onetime!“ Ruben’s hands balled into fists, the trembling echo of his voice rippled down the cellar walls. The feeling of betrayal bloomed like thorns in the rotten core of his ribcage. He should have never told him. “It was a dream, don’t you dare hold this against me! I’m _not_ insane.“ Sebastian shoved the cigarette back between his teeth and bit a dent into the filter.

“I know“, he said, “But you’ll be someday if you don‘t leave your past in the past and move the fuck on. And before you can move the fuck on, you have to move the fuck _out_. See what… the future has in for you.“

Rubenwondered how he should react to this, or if he should react at all. It would have been easy to let the well-known, bitter-sweet tremor of rage take over his senses and let it bury everything in its path. He felt it crawl under the epidermis of his callous skin, eager to make his heart swell, help it pop out of existence.

But it didn’t. He sat up straighter instead, grew a bit colder to match the turmoil building inside his head and chest. And spoke.

“Well,“ he said. “You don’t have to worry about my future that much, Sebastian; with this wreckage of a body, I won’t have one. Your best years won’t be tarnished by any reason left for your recurring visits here. By this point, I hardly recall the reason I should allow you visiting me at all.“ His eyes narrowed to slits. “Fortunately, this can be fixed by the simple gesture of goodbye. Close the door when you leave.“ 

He got up from the couch, ignoring Sebastian‘s hand that reached out to grab his sleeve as he walked past him. He left the room he used as parlor and headed to his lab by instinct, perfectly picturing Sebastian’s widened eyes and slack mouth at the action without having to turn around. There was no expression he hadn’t seen on his face already. Hurt; joy; weakness; embarassement. Even lust – the list was endless. And beautiful albeit dangerous in passing.

Hurried footsteps set in behind him, followed by Sebastian’s feisty curse as he tripped over the edge of the couch. Ruben, though furious and unforgiving and not eager on provoking further discussions, deliberately slowed his pace. He wouldn’t have been able to escape if they were chasing each other anyway. The damaged muscles in his legs were barely fit for walking straight, let alone running. Both relief and spite flooded his veins when familiar hands grabbed his shoulders and whirled him around. Blinking, Ruben found his blank expression reflected in frantic eyes, the stupid grit still stuck in his mouth.

“Ruben –“

“– Have I ever made you feel unwelcome in my home? Did my father–“

“No! I didn’t mean it like that. It never bothered – this isn’t about me!“ Sebastian stammered. His grip was tight. Ruben equally despised and relished in it.

“This house has history to uphold“, he countered icily. “A legacy to protect. Class. It might be antique, but its roots demand respect. A quality you always lacked.“ 

“It’s _not_ about me“,Sebastian repeated in exasperation. His fingertips dug deeper, leaving phantom imprints on Ruben’s clothed skin. “It’s about you. It’s always been about you and this horror house! … and Laura.“

Ruben watched, fixed as a sphinx, how his only friend’s posture crumbled. Sebastian‘s touch was warm and rough and he might have enjoyed his eyes trained on him if he hadn‘t been the reason of their sadness. If he had a heart worth beating still, he might have felt pity for the only being that had become attached to him despite it all or, even worse, because of it. 

But he was selfish. And he was horribly alone.

“You deceive yourself, Sebastian“, he said more carefully, as if talking to a child. At least that’s how the adults in his novels acted. “It’s always been about you. This _horror house_ is my home. I have no intention to leave. You on the other hand–“

“–You can‘t stay here“, Sebastian interrupted him sharply. He took his hands off Ruben's shoulders and framed his face instead. Ruben didn’t flinch although every cell in his body screamed to recoil. “Look at you; stagnant, pallid, locked up in that golden cage of yours. Or do you think you’ll see her again? That she’ll return to you? She won’t. Laura’s dead, Ruben. And I know you can‘t stop feeling guilty that you haven’t died with her that day.“

The pang in his chest of which Ruben had thought to have long ceased existing emerged with revived force. His gaze turned adamant.

“My sister isn’t the reason I’m staying here – what other choice you think does my condition leave me with?“ He put a hand to his chest, inches above the throb, nails wedging in cotton. “The sun burns me. My body becomes hypothermic in the night. Who would keep me warm? Shield me from the light? Pay for my pills and ointments? You? You can barely pay the rent for that ridiculously large three-bedroom ap–“

He halted. Realization broke in, hot and slow as candle wax. His eyes widened, petrified.

A blush crept into Sebastian’s cheeks. He looked away. His hands, though not teetering from their position, grew more lax in their grip.

"It won't be long anymore till I pass the academy,“ he said in a muted voice, each vowel a piece of porcellain on his tongue. “Sure, they make me start at the bottom. Hand out tickets, check parking meters, patrol. The dirty work. But I’ll climb up that greasy pole as fast as I can. Then, we won't need your parents' money to..."

He didn’t finish. He stared to the ground, viewed his beat-up boots meeting Ruben’s meticously clean pair of Paul Smiths. His shoulders slumped a little, the change barely recognizable for a stranger.

But Ruben was no stranger. And maybe he did feel the faintest bastardisation of pity now.

It made him angry – sure, anger provided an easy retreat, he was aware. He just couldn’t decide who he should be angry at here; Sebastian who would envision a future he never made use of offering, or little poor he, bound torestraints he had set and been covered in most of his life just like his bandages. He was close to shouting, how _dare_ he made him question himself? How _dare_ he made him rue his decisions for another moment torn from the works of time themselves in the patched-up construct of his life?

But then again… how often had he questioned Sebastian’s actions and rued his answers in return?

He guided his hands to Sebastian’s cheeks, mirroring his gesture. The numb pads of his thumbs rubbed across short spikes of hair and tanned, unmauled skin.

“You certainly don’t know the notoriety of having me as a roommate,“ he said, the opportunity to taunt him lost in the lack of emotion. “You wouldn’t dote so much on the idea otherwise.“

He could see the way understanding seeped into Sebastian’s features like acid. Watched as it stole the hope in his eyes along with the light.

“I… I thought after your last skin transplantations –“

“I won’t finish them.“

Sebastian’s face came apart. He opened his mouth without being able to peel the words from his throat. His head seemed heavy as a cathedral for his chin sank, shoulders following. Like a leaking prow, it plunged into the still sea of Ruben’s hands. He could handle him now. He had taken his dream, and crushed it just enough. What a dutiful friend he was.

“But why?“ he choked out at last. “Why the hell would you stop?“

He was to die for. Ruben inclined his head.

“Because I’ll always be a monster, Sebastian. I’ll never be able to walk the earth like other people do. No patch of skin will return what I‘ve lost.“ He took a step back, his fingers gliding off Sebastian’s cheeks like water. They clenched to fists and crossed in front of his chest. “The transplantations steal the time left and fill it up with pain and medication that leavemy brain delirious, the only thing I hold dear.“ He paused at that, hesitated, continued at last. “They keep me from my research.“

The way he said it must have triggered a certain signal in Sebastian’s brain, because he lifted his head so abruptly a faint crack followed the motion. His eyes stared wide at him.

“You’re no monster. And your health is more important than your fucking research, Ruben!“

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew what my research was about.“ The sharp rustle of fabric was clear enough to hear when Sebastian threw his arms up. It was good to see him enraged. Rage gave life to them both, always had.

“How could I? You never tell me!“

 _Of course not._ Ruben grit his teeth. _You and your awry definition of justice. You would have left me years ago if you knew._

“I’ve made my decision long ago. And I appreciate your concern; it‘s one of the reasons I savor your company. The peculiarities of your nature are pestering sometimes, but I’d never chase you away. You’re welcome to stay as long as you deem necessary.“ He took in a deep breath to keep his damaged lungs busy. The words to come were difficult for their own reason, but he needed to get them out. “Yet if you can’t bear to set foot through these gates anymore, if they frighten you, I won’t keep you from leaving. I knew you would; I suppose that every time you vanish into the night, I half-expect you to never return again. Life has taken much from me already – I refuse to be surprised when it makes me lose you too.“ 

“Ruben–“

“It would be better if you leave. Evening is drawing near and you haven’t fixed the broken backlight of your bycicle yet. You might get hit by a car or worse.“ He turned his gaze away. “The academy should expect you in one piece. You’ve got training tomorrow, haven’t you?“

Sebastian stared at him speechlessly. His eyes were like paste. For a moment, the feeling was so intense Ruben was convinced that if they were to detach from him, the measly rest of his functioning skin would follow suit.

“Suppose doesn’t sound like the right word to me.“ Sebastian’s voice sounded old and cracked. “How about ’fear’? Care to pronounce that before you throw my ass out, you stubborn prick?“ Ruben closed his eyes. Sebastian never did what anybody told him. It was annoying. It’s what he’d miss most.

“You’re an idiot. A goddamn _asshole_ , but you’re no monster.“ Ruben almost smiled. If he only knew.

“Goodbye, Sebastian.“

“For fuck‘s sake. Sometimes I think you haven’t aged at all!“

Steps echoed, but instead of moving away, they approached further. Before Ruben could reach for the syringe waiting in his pocket, arms wrapped around his midst from behind and laced him up unbearably tight. He did not twitch when Sebastian buried his face in the crook of his neck, and his chin scratched along dead skin, just stared ahead in shock. His hand weighed in the air, indecisive. The blood rushed in his good ear. He lingered, then closed his fist. His useless body wasn’t made to endure a physical encounter. He hadn’t planned it to go this way.

“Sebastian –“

“You’re still that little sad boy I pulled out of that well shaft eight years ago,“ Sebastian said, voice drowned in a mesh of emotions Ruben couldn’t have reciprocated if he tried. “Eight years, Ruben. During these you have yelled at me, cursed me, threw a scalpel at me –“

“– That was your fault. You didn’t knock.“

“And you can’t aim for shit.“ Sebastian countered rashly. A tired retort. He could do better than that, Ruben knew. He looked down.

“Nothing lasts forever. It’s against nature.“

“It’s a bit much to up and leave like that, though.“

“This quarrel is unnecessary.“ He attempted to squirm out of his grip, but it was pointless. The strength of the other seemed only enhanced by his stubbornness. Already tired of the situation, he gave up and shifted his weight against Sebastian's chest. “You _will_ stop turning up at my door. It doesn’t matter if you leave this time or get shot during a bank heist three years ahead – now unhand me!“ He didn’t realize he had started to shout until Sebastian's flinch and the burn in his throat led him to this realization. He was frightened by it himself, albeit more by what he had confessed than by the volume he had raised.

It brought him silence, and Sebastian and silence in one place never meant anything good.

“…So this is what it‘s all about?“ He rather felt than saw his face twist into a scowl. “Shit. I should have known the day you gave me the revolver. Didn‘t you get the memo yet? I don’t plan on dying.“ The grip loosened at last. Ruben stood motionless, eyes still chained to the anthracite darkness he had grown up in.

“No one does. You’re truly horrible at planning _anything_.“ It earned him a laugh.

“You better look at my face when you’re dissing me, Victoriano.“

“And watch you tear up? Please, I’d like to keep _some_ part of your dignity intact, Castellanos.“

“Never knew I had any to begin with.“Hands embedded on his shoulders and turned him gently into the other direction. He allowed it to happen. Later, he would hate himself for it. Now, however, he only wanted to endure the following.

A rare amalgam of amusement and uselessly suppressed grief painted Sebastian's face, and met Ruben unprepared though he didn't know what else to expect either. His brain was the one he couldn't figure out nor break apart to be seen from the inside. It would have turned him into a zombie, a babbling mess like the others. But he was the only being on this earth that offered Ruben more joy if it remained well and intact. The only one.

Sebastian raised his hands, open palms with no wicked intention to date. (He was still young. He would learn.)

“Okay; okay, we both know this world can be full of shit sometimes, right? Things happen; horrible things, gruesome things, deadly things. And me becoming a cop doesn’t really diminish the probability of these things happening to me, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be careful. I mean… I have at least one reason to be careful, don’t I?“

Ruben waited, expression unreadable. “And?“ he asked sharply. Sebastian tilted his head.

“I can’t say what the future brings… but I’m not the type to make promises I won’t keep. So.“ He folded his hands, the tips of his fingers pointing to Ruben. “There’s the promise: I won’t abandon you. The least what this between us – whatever it is – deserves, is a proper goodbye. I’m no coward.“

“I’m aware.“ Ruben replied quickly, probably too quick. _Sometimes I wished you were._ His voice echoed off the walls with meager frequency in mind. “Leaving doesn’t make you a coward. It… makes you free of me.“

Sebastian snorted. Before Ruben could muster his intention, he was pulled into a hug.

“And who said I want to be free of you, asshole?“ he muttered. “Who the fuck said I want to see your ugly bandaged mug no more? Gives me a self-confidence boost for days.“ Ruben’s breath hitched in his throat. Sebastian had experienced a considerable growth spurt since last year, which proved even more evident as the tip of Rubens' nose buried itself a few inches under his clavicle. His eyes, dry and pale with world hatred, stared at the tight chequered pattern of an impressively ugly flannel shirt. He was firmly convinced by now that Sebastian was either unable to buy clothes that didn’t tie him up like a corset, or simply grew out of them too fast and didn't care until the seams began to burst.

The syringe’s shape pressed with urgence against the fabric of his pants, reminding him of its unwavering loyality since early youth. Maybe, the proximity of its fleshen counterpart upset it. Ruben would have been amused by the possibility of this to be real as much as he yearned for realities that would never take shape except beneath the shield of his cerebral cortex.

Well… not every reality. He ignored the syringe, and his eyes mellowed to mere aversion.

For the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to clutch Sebastian’s shoulder and tentatively return the force of body contact instead of enduring it. The arms around him closed further in response, keeping him on his wavering feet – a fact Ruben would’ve rather agreed to being skinned alive than admit.

They stayed like this for a while. Ruben noticed in passing that they started to sway lightly at some point, and didn’t find it in himself to attempt a joke about proper dancing. He could dance, though poorly. Laura had taught him.

“Damn,“ Sebastian said. The reverberation of his warm whisper caressed the bandaged half of Ruben’s forehead. “How long have you been carrying that around with you? No fuckin’ wonder you want me to move in so badly.“ Ruben didn’t answer. He buried his face in the crook of Sebastian’s neck, and inhaled the sharp scent of his cologne mingled with the natural bouquet of old rain and unmarred skin.

Sometimes, he dreamt about opening his ribcage at night, how he’d take the organs and place them in canopic jars one by one as the old Egyptians did. To honor him, preserve him for eternity and beyond. No one could have taken him away then. No one and nothing. Not even death.

“What are you thinking about?“ Sebastian asked, patting his back in encouraging manner. Ruben curled his lips. _About how I’d crawl inside the cocoon of your slowly retracting flesh and hide my disfigured visage from the world._

“That you have a terrible influence on me concerning your slurs. I should have Martin throw you out. He isn’t my Keeper for nothing,“ he said, entangling himself with abrupt force. It was more difficult than it looked if only for Sebastian’s iron grip, not mentioning the swift disappointment in his eyes. Their game wasn’t new, but the circumstances were. And yet, after the quiet state of resignation he had grown used to taking place, he grinned with renewed endeavor, his thumbs stretching the hooks of his jeans.

“Nah, you won’t. You gave him the weekend off to visit his daughter at the hospital. You can be nice if you want to.“ Ruben stared at him. His mouth opened, seemingly trying to provide an answer, but fell shut with no sound being made. “I merely worried about his focus,“ he managed at last, voice uncharacteristically timid. “He is of no use to me if his thoughts are strewing elsewhere. It was a calculated decision.“

“Sure. Either way, he’ll be glad to see his little –“ He frowned. “ah, shit, what was the daughter’s name again?“

“Marta,“ Ruben said. And pretended not to notice Sebastian’s grin widen. He turned to the direction they both had come from, a retch of artificial light beckoning them back. Without warm fingers that squeezed his sides, every movement felt irrelevant again.

It was for the better, he decided, and barely cared enough to catch himself lying about it. Sebastian shuffling his feet behind him was the distraction he needed to do just so, the echo twice as awkward inside this corridor which he used to roll his subjects through.

“So…“ Sebastian drawled, rubbing his neck. “how about that game of chess? I’d be up for it now.“ Ruben blinked. It seemed unfit to return to regular customs after their irregular argument, yet despite the vast intellect he praised himself on, he had never learned how to break the ice after a fight he had neither won nor lost. He pondered.

“Fine with me... I could use a victory tonight.“ Sebastian laughed.

“Cocky bastard. Who says I won’t beat you this time?“ Ruben tilted his head. He was good at playing chess. Many would have said he was more than good. Born strategist, planner, trapper, theoretician to the core. He fostered all the redeeming qualities to win battles of the mind. A patient little spider waiting for the fly to stop its fight and give in.

He didn’t put Sebastian into the role of the fly as he naturally did with his subjects, but even so he had never beat him once.

“A bold assumption. What makes you say that?“

“I’ve managed to surprise you before,“ Sebastian said plainly, joining Ruben’s side. They walked back to the safe part of the cellar vault, close, but without touching. He paused. “I could use black this time.“ Ruben smiled thinly. As if a mere chance of sides could predict a win.

“No. White is what suits you.“ Sebastian snorted. He almost sounded like his old, careless self again. He would try to do so all evening.

“Why? Because I like being the white knight in shining armor?“

“You’re no knight,“ Ruben said, looking ahead. “Not in my game.“

“What do you mean?“

Ruben didn’t answer. He stepped into the light and thus back into the somewhat comfortable illusion of normalcy the room’s furniture provided. It was mere procedure afterwards; he cleared the table while Sebastian retrieved the game. They prepared the board in shared silence as they had done so more times than Sebastian cared to count and Ruben wouldn’t tell him.

While he watched him hunch over the board, that damned curl falling into his face, it deemed clear enough to him what he was once more. No knight, no bishop and, of course, no pawn. The first two pieces followed their patterns and meticulously-stretched boundaries to which they had to surrender for better or worse. While the pawn was closest to his persistence, it did not live up to his strength, among other qualities. The sheer superiority of the Queen proved just as inappropriate as the King who hid behind his entourage, taking one laborious step at a time.

Ruben opened the game by moving his pawn to A3. Sebastian hummed.

“You’re always trying to clear the way for your towers first. I wonder why.“

“I’m fond of my towers,“ Ruben said nonchalantly, eyes set on his chess figures. “They are my favorite pieces next to the Queen. I could well win this match with them alone.“

“Is that a challenge?“ Ruben looked up. There was a cold gleam in his gaze, the one he had fostered as a child, might have been born with even. His father, though too proud to admit it, had feared to conquer it directly as the years went by.

Sebastian looked at him with an expression that could only be described as curious. Ruben felt enchanted by it. And calmed.

“Would there be any fun in playing if it weren’t?“

Sebastian grinned, eager to prove him wrong by getting rid of his towers first in turn. He lost twelve minutes later with no knights left.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FjG2J_fdFXo


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